Angel of Anarchy
by Nikita1506
Summary: One by one she called the names of each man in the room, pulling file after file from her briefcase and dropping them on to the bar.


No idea where this came from...but what the hell...Enjoy...

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><p>His body hit the ground and he looked up, confused. He saw the chain there, but couldn't feel it around his neck. Slowly, Juice reached up to touch the chain; but he couldn't.<p>

A body came to stand in front of him and he looked up into the gentle eyes of a young girl.

"No," she said softly, "It's not your time yet."

Her hand reached out and he didn't stop himself from taking her hand in his as she helped him to stand. She smiled gently and brushed the back of her free hand across his cheek. He let his eyes close at her tender touch.

"Sweet man," she purred, "I know what troubles you. Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

His eyes still closed, he never saw her lean up to him. But he felt her lips on his sure as he felt his heart still pulse through his body. Just like that, she was gone. Opening his eyes, he looked around; but she was nowhere to be seen. Something glinted at him from the ground and he crouched low; picking up the small necklace from the ground. The chain was silver, long enough to be hidden under a shirt and the small round disk on the end was also silver, engraved with three small words on one side; and a single letter on the other.

A sense of peace filled him as his fingers drifted over the words _'I'm always here'_ and he flipped the coin to see a small letter _'K'_ on the back. Following his instincts, Juice slipped the chain over his head. The disk felt warm against his chest where it rested under his shirt.

He knew something was going to happen as he walked back to where his bike was, but he figured to let it happen because he must've deserved what was coming. He betrayed his family, to save himself. What kind of man was he? He looked up again and saw her standing at his bike, a sad smile on her face.

And then he saw nothing but blackness.

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><p>When he came too, he was lying in his bed at the clubhouse; and every part of him hurt. He heard humming and turned his head slightly, wincing. It was her! She was there! Sitting next to him with that same sad smile on her face.<p>

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head; brushing her hand over his face gently. Her fingers ran down his arm to link with his and she kept humming; something that filled every cell of Juice's body and relaxed him. Causing him to close his eyes and drift away into a dreamless sleep.

Upon waking again, Juice automatically reached for the necklace he had; breathing a sigh of relief when he felt it still there.

"You're awake."

Juice looked over and saw Chibs sitting next to him.

"Happened?" he asked, voice scratchy and his mouth sore as hell.

"Dunno. Found you on the side o' the road, half-way between here and the warehouse; beat ta hell."

Juice had to swallow a few times to get his mouth to work; "Who?"

"Dunno. But we're thinkin' it's retaliation of some kind."

Juice chuckled, and promptly winced in pain; "Who've we pissed off?" he took a breath, "In the last six hours?"

Chibs smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Where've ya been boyo?" he asked finally.

"I needed—to think," Juice labored out, "Pulled off to the side," he shook his head, "Don't remember—anything else."

Chibs nodded and reached out to gently pat Juice's shoulder, "Get some rest Juicy-boy."

He waited until he saw Juice's eyes close and his breathing even out before flicking off the overhead light and leaving the room.

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><p>Chibs had just returned to the garage when the sound of stiletto heels echoed through the bays. Each of the men looked up to see the official looking woman in the short skirt and high heels.<p>

"Hello," she said, smiling easily, "I'm looking for Juan Carlos Ortiz?"

"Why?" asked an older brunette.

She looked over and smiled at her, "Mr. Ortiz public attorney has had some…issues. I was given pick of his cases. I chose this one."

"Issues?" came a gravelly voice from the back.

She turned and faced the new voice, "He had a nervous breakdown. He was found curled in the fetal position in the corner of his office muttering the most random things."

"Why'd you choose this case?" asked another man.

She sighed and turned around yet again, this time facing an older man with short salt and pepper hair who looked like he'd definitely seen better days. This time, her smile was sharper and she set her briefcase on the bar, flicking the locks open easily.

"Well, that's easy," she told everyone around her.

She pulled a file from the case, "Clayton Edward Morrow," she said, holding the file up before dropping it onto the bar, "Jackson John Teller," another file, "Alexander Daniel Trager," another file.

One by one she called the names of each man in the room, pulling file after file from her briefcase and dropping them on to the bar. What surprised everyone the most, however; were the two final files that she pulled from the case and the names she called out with them.

"Gemini Morgana Pressy. AKA Gemma Pressy. Married names; Gemma Teller. Gemma-Teller Morrow," Gemma's file hit the bar and she pulled one last file, "Tara Michelle Ann Knowles."

"What?" seven male voices rang out at her.

"Tara doesn't have a record," came the voice of one man.

She turned to see him and came face to face with one Jax Teller.

"Not a criminal record."

"Shut up," came a younger woman's voice.

"What's the matter Tara? Doesn't your fiancé know about the deal you made?"

"I said, shut up," Tara growled.

She smiled and turned away from the younger brunette, "Anyway, back to the reason I'm actually here. I'd like to see my client please."

"He's resting, got into a bit of a tussle last night," Chibs said.

She looked up sharply, "He's injured?" she demanded.

Chibs nodded, and the group was surprised when she began muttering curses under her breath in what sounded like a combination of Italian and French as she shoved the files of each of them back into her briefcase. She pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to the Scotsman.

"When Mr. Ortiz wakes, please make sure he calls me so that we can go over his records. I'm sure _you're_ looking after his best interests," she said.

Chibs nodded again and placed the small white rectangle in his pocket. With a smaller smile, just for him; she turned from the crowd and walked calmly walked away.


End file.
